Part 22 (2/2)

Then the ladies made their appearance. Elizabeth apologized for Chilian not asking her into the parlor. ”It looked inhospitable.”

”It was my fault. The stoop was so tempting. A shady porch in the afternoon is a luxury. We take our sewing out there; that is, Alice and I, and sometimes the guests. How lovely your vines are! And your garden is a regular show place, quite worth coming to see if there were no other charm. And, Miss Leverett, I hear you have been making the most beautiful white quilt there is in Salem.”

”Oh, no. But as nice as any. And it was a sight of work. I don't know as I'd do it again. I've no chick or child to leave it to.”

”May I come over some day and see it? Not that I shall do anything of the kind. With four big boys to mend for and the two girls, I have my hands full.”

Then they talked about putting up fruit and making jellies, and Mrs.

Turner said she must go over to the Uphams. She heard that Polly was getting to be such a nice, smart girl, and had worked the bottom of her white frock and a round cape to match. Then she called Bella.

”Oh, can't I go over with them?” pleaded Cynthia.

Cousin Chilian nodded. Elizabeth rose stiffly and went in. Eunice pulled out her knitting. It was so lovely here. There were the warmth and perfume of summer and the rich fragrance of ripening fruits and gra.s.s mown for feed, not snipped with a lawn-mower, such things had not been heard of even in the rapidly improving Salem.

”There are some countries where people live out of doors nearly all the time,” began Eunice reflectively. ”Well, they do a good deal in India.

But I think this is in Europe. And this is so lovely, so restful. But I'm afraid you have affronted Elizabeth by not insisting Mrs. Turner should walk into the parlor. Though really--we had not returned her last call. I do wish Elizabeth could find some time to get out. I don't see why there should be so much work.”

”Couldn't you have some one to help?”

”Well, it isn't just the cooking and kitchenwork. And no one could suit her there. She's up in that old garret toiling, and moiling, and packing away enough things to furnish an inn. We shall never want them. And there's your mother's, and some of your grandmother's, blankets.”

”The New England thrift is rather too thrifty sometimes,” he commented dryly.

Cynthia staid after Mrs. Turner made her adieus. Indeed, as it was nearing supper-time, he walked over for her. She and Betty were in the wide-seated swing and Ben was swinging them so high that Betty, used as she was to it, gave now and then little squeals. Chilian held up his hand and Ben let the ”cat die,” which meant the swing stopping of itself.

”Oh, Mr. Leverett, can't Cynthy stay to tea? I'll run and ask mother.”

”Not to-day. She had better come home now.”

”Oh, dear!” cried Bentley disappointedly.

”Yes, I had better go. And I've had such a lovely time. Cousin Chilian, can't I come over again?”

How pretty she looked with her s.h.i.+ning eyes, her rosy cheeks, and her entreating lips! What would she coax out of men as she grew older!

”Oh, yes; any time they want you.”

”Well, we'd like her every day!” cried Ben eagerly. ”And isn't it splendid that she's grown so well and strong, and can run and play, and have good out-of-doors times? Though I used to like it in the winter up in your room, and Mr. Price said he never knew a boy to improve so in Latin.”

Bentley made a graceful bow to Mr. Leverett.

”Oh,” said Cynthia, skipping along in exuberant joy, ”children are nice, aren't they? You can't have much fun alone by yourself, and the days are so long when you go in to Boston.”

”I wonder if you would like to try school again?”

”Yes, I think I would;” after a pause. ”You see,” with a gravity that sat oddly upon her, ”I'm not so afraid as I was, and I have more sense.

<script>